


his former glory

by ephemeral_fallacy



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Demon AU, Demons, Fluff, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeral_fallacy/pseuds/ephemeral_fallacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiota Nagisa has no idea what he's in for when he draws the summoning pentagram in his room. He honestly just wanted an ifrit to help with the cleaning, but instead, he gets one of the most powerful demons in Hell's realm, Akabane Karma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. its the first of another

**Author's Note:**

> YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
> IM HYPED FOR THISSSSSSSSSSSSss  
> GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

_It’s been a long time since he’s seen the human world._

 

Karma lounges about in his lavish, dimly-lit room, gray eyes staring haughtily at a pool that doesn’t reflect his ceiling. Instead, it’s like a tunnel vision version of a crow’s-eye view of the world. His dark red tail flickers back and forth like a cat’s, impatiently fuzzy. With a flick of his hand, it zooms in, almost dizzyingly onto a campus grounds filled with students.

 

Their multi-colored, fancy brocades shine in the sunlight and he raises an eyebrow. There’s nothing yet that piques his attention, but if anyone were to observe the demon, they would know exactly what he wanted: he’s quite clearly searching for someone, because his finger flicks again, and it zooms into a part of the campus far from the common grounds. The fancier dormitories are closer to the main buildings of the prestigious-looking summoning school, all adorned with white, sharp towers that scrape the sky and dark red linings and crisp paint.

 

But the pool shimmers and suddenly, the buildings he sees are more run-down, less fresh and closer to the ground.

 

_It’s been a long time since he’s waited this long._

 

Karma cracks his knuckles and rises from his position, swinging booted feet to the ground. It makes a loud crack against the marbled flooring and he steps deliberately around the pool, turning back to stare at it once more.

 

There’s a familiar puff of blue-hair in his vision now, and the pool shivers, mirroring the feeling running down Karma’s spine. His tail flicks and he squints at what the human’s actions. There’s the chalked-in pentagram and the summoning tools, except it’s on a cheap floorboard and the wallpaper of the room looks old and almost crinkly. But the blue-haired boy looks perfect content.

 

His eyes are excited, nearly a luminescent blue, and his movements and arm strokes are frantic and quick.

 

_He supposes it’s time to make an appearance back into the world that has surely missed him._

 

The red-headed demon feels a smile growing on his face and the sound of his boots against the ground echo in the large chamber. Before him, the doors open by themselves. He’s already memorized the symbols on the pentagram the blue-haired human was drawing and he’s sure he can find the owner of the symbol.

 

“Okano, you’re about to be summoned,” Karma throws open the doors to her chamber and she hastily floats to her feet, brushing imaginary dust off her clothing.

 

“How do you know?” She narrows her eyes and watches the redhead with apprehension. “You’re not supposed to keep tabs on--”

 

“It’s because I’ll be taking your place,” the demon laughs and walks towards her, knocking her head with the back of his closed fist lightly. “I’m sure you won’t mind.”

 

Okano rubs the spot he hit and glares at him under her lashes. “I can’t argue with you, anyway.”

 

“Right you are,” Karma nearly singsongs and waits for the familiar shining to exude from the female ifrit. She shivers and nods at him with tired compliance; with a wave of her hand, her own pentagram appears in the air with a glowing flash and it hovers, waiting for a person to cross the gate.

 

The redhead steps up confidently and thrusts his arm into the middle of the symbol, his smile widening, his eyebrows softening. Okano stares at him for a moment, almost confused.

 

He doesn’t even think about explaining anything to the ifrit, because in a blinding flash of light and the feeling of the edges of his physical manifestation waver, he’s not in the large, dark chamber of his sector anymore. Old, crispy wallpaper and creaky floorboards greet him and he stands in all his demon glory. His eyes sweep the room and take in the neatly-made bed and the small closet, as well as the small, blue-haired boy plastered against one of the walls of the rooms.

 

“I...I could’ve sworn I summoned an ifrit...not... _you_ ,” he stammers out with self-doubt and his eyes are wide, fingers only slightly trembling.

 

“Maybe I did something wrong with the drawing of it…” the male continues to ramble on to himself and Karma bites back the upwards curl of his lips.

 

“Shiota Nagisa, lowly human, you’ve summoned one of the highest grand demons, Akabane Karma. There must be a reason as to why you’ve wasted my time with this petty summoning, am I right?”

 

Karma relishes the familiarity of the voice that replies to him and the feeling of the sunlight on his pale skin; they’re all things that remind him of the years past, and _how fond were those years, indeed._

_It seems like now, they’re both back._


	2. he's really (not) a big help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeYYYy YOOOOo kIDSSSS  
> HERES CHAPTER 2 i guess ill try to update every week but idk man  
> school is a really really straight ruler and everything's stressful  
> BUT I DIDNT FAIL MY ESSAY AND IM WRITING THIS SO EVERYTHINGS PERFECTLY FINE  
> FINE, DANDY, AND GAY, NICENICENICENICENICE enjoy

 

Shiota Nagisa was _not_ expecting something this large to pop up from the summoning circle.

 

He was looking for a simple ifrit to help clean up the run-down room he had moved into (from lack of money, the headmasters of the main dormitory were always so _greedy_ ); he had all the chalk and the salt and the chilled iron he needed to control whatever he was about to summon, because it was known that most ifrits were hot-headed and full of fiery blood.

 

And there, he looked up the symbols for a simple ifrit, one under a branch of one of the Grand Kings, because in the tiny print, the book said that they tended to be more subservient, seeing as they worked under many other demons in their respective division. Nagisa came across the Flame Diviner’s ifrit, one named Okano Hinata, and he scratched in her symbol and hoped for the best.

 

After all, he never summoned anything above an imp.

 

The blue-haired boy in his dusty, old robes hoped, at that moment, that all his materials would be enough. And of course, it was just his luck that things didn’t go his way.

 

* * *

 

 

Nagisa ends up doing the laundry and cleaning by himself. Rather, it’s even more annoying for him, because the circle, and the things that used to be in the room, are now just piles of dust here and there.

 

Karma, or whoever the heck he ended up summoning, lounges about with a self-satisfied expression on the single chair left standing in his dorm room, his legs crossed and his foot swaying back and forth like a little pendulum.

 

“You’re cleaning pretty slow there, little human,” he laughs from the other side of the room, and the blue-haired boy feels his shoulders tense and his back nearly crick. Struggling to his feet (after all, it’s been about two hours and he’s barely done with one side of the room; whoever would take the lodging after him would see a lot of mysterious black marks on the wall), he sends an unimposing glare towards the demon whose tail only simply waves in bemusement.

 

“Well, sorry that I didn’t get to summon a _demon_ that could actually clean,” Nagisa retorts, then stretches, feeling his muscles pull and his bones creak a little inside of his body. Then he gives a little sigh and hunkers down again, grabbing the dust pan and the broom to set about sweeping up the dust. He’s pretty sure the bed is also unusable, seeing as its slanted, singed, and missing three legs. Under his breath, he mutters some insults that he hopes the demon behind him doesn’t hear--

 

_“What was that about me?”_

 

The blue-haired male gulps and turns his head. Karma is up and his horns look rather intimidating with the sunlight shining dramatically on him.

 

“ _Nothing…?_ ” Nagisa manages to get out and his grip on the little broom tightens. He’s bringing his hands closer to himself, as if that would save him from the demon’s rage. The arrow-shaped, black as the night sky, tail’s waving seems more like the clock ticking to the time of his death; the sharp, cool gray eyes staring at him intensely seem like the headlights belonging to the so-called “Grim Reaper” in those fairytales he reads.

 

Then the expression on the demon’s face changes. The wrinkle in his brow disappears and his eyes seem less intense, more bored.

 

Nagisa doesn’t realize that he’s been gripping the broom for dear life, until he lets go and the pain suddenly wracks his hand in a lot of beneath-the-skin blood circulation.

 

“ _Move_ ,” Karma drawls and nudges the blue-haired boy to the side, nearly sending him sprawling on the ground with the force of his half-hearted kick. He flicks his cape behind him, a dark red flag billowing in a fake storm; with a sweep of his arm the dust is cleared and the other leg of his bed is cleanly screwed off and the frame and mattress falls to the ground with the surprising sound of nothing but harshly blowing wind.

 

Blue hair obscures Nagisa’s vision, but he can most definitely hear the muted chanting from the demon and _it sounds so familiar to him_. From his knowledge, it sounds like an incantation to manipulate wind, something that humans could barely hope to do on a casual level; the only person he knows that could control air would be someone two times his senior, a curvaceous blonde woman he would rather often avoid.

 

But the wind dies down and his room is clean, and Karma looks pleased with himself, folded arms over his chest and a stance begging for praise.

 

“...You could’ve warned me,” the blue-haired boy almost growls and he gets up, his hands unconsciously brushing invisible dust off his clothes. The air around him almost floats and he feels his robes softly riding the last of the currents, and then he looks up.

 

Karma almost looks surprised, but he replies with a smirk, “Sorry, _your Highness_ , I suppose that power was too much for you to handle?”

 

Nagisa stares at him for a moment more, unsure of whether or not to laugh at him sympathetically or judge him for his arrogance; he chooses the third option and starts to move the boxes into the room, secretly hoping that the racket doesn’t alert the roommates from next door.

 

“Don’t worry, I experience that a lot during the week,” the human throws behind his shoulder and he moves his things, hiding the shudder that runs down his spine.

 

But once he puts down the box, he feels a tightening hand on his head and he’s spun around (he feels more like a ragdoll than a human at this point), his eyes forced to stare into intimidating gray with pupils like paper cuts in skin. Nagisa resists the urge to break the stare; if he looks too long into the sea of gray skies and gray clouds in Karma’s eyes, he feels like he’s going to faint, too dizzy and just a bit nauseous, even.

 

“Just wait and I’ll show you what I’m really made of,” he sneers, and although his words are menacing, his voice, if the blue-haired victim was to describe it, is soft, almost a croon. The hand on his head is no longer hostile and when he lets go, his fingers leave little warm spots, almost comforting, almost familiar.

  
Nagisa later comes to the conclusion that Akabane Karma is just a fire demon with a cocky attitude and a penchant for using wind for silly things, and _has the warmest hands he’s ever felt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder if anyones noticed that i headcanon karma's hands as fucking suns  
> legit suns like theyre super warm and cuddly and gay, you feel????  
> yOU FEEL ME??//i feel me  
> i want karmagisa to be canon


	3. of a warm, summer's day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yOooOOO  
> ok so i have this AU and like another reALLY COOL AU I WANNA WRITE  
> but like idk if i should finish this one then start the other AU, but i have the other AU all planned out  
> this AU is just kinda disorganized idk man enjoy

 

The room just isn’t the same when Nagisa isn’t in it.

 

The boring, drab ceiling is almost worse than the elaborately carved and adorned ceiling of his chamber room in Hell; the only part that keeps it from invoking the same, monotonous feeling is the fact that he hasn’t stared at it for long enough. _He’s waited, at least, five hundred years in Hell to be summoned again._

 

Karma lets out an unamused laugh and swings his legs over the side of the bed, his boots materializing the moment he steps on the ground. The ceiling has the same appearance as the floor, and he thinks for a moment that he’s upside-down and the world is topsy-turvy for him and for everyone too. It wouldn’t be out of the question, but he doesn’t have to touch the door to open it and the wind is on his side, so nothing is quite out of place yet.

 

The demon figures he has time to kill before Nagisa comes home.

 

With a wave of his hand, Karma’s body disappears in mid-air with a shimmering brilliance and his hand is the last to fade into the background. Even in the light, there’s no refraction or wavering of the invisibility cloak; the wind clings to him like water on his skin, keeping him safe from prying eyes. He’s sure with this level of invisibility, not even his own marids could see him. He lets out a joyful whistle from his lips, and several bystanders in cloaks look around confusedly.

 

“This could be fun,” he snickers and veers towards a lone summoner, sitting on the bench, basking in the sunlight that turns his sick, drab brown robes a flourishing amber color. A well-worn book is open in his lap, and Karma chooses to flip a page; he watches the summoner’s face change from interest to confusion in the span of a millisecond, suppressing his joyous laughter. The second he flips it back, the demon flips the page over again, but the summoner stands up with an indignant expression, searching for a demon to blame.

 

But by the time he whips out a Spirit glass to see demons through, Karma is far, far away, laughing and enjoying not only the physical feeling of warmth, but the internal joy that comes to him from pranking.

 

“It’s not as if those petty human inventions could see through my spell anyway,” the redhead demon smirks as his invisible hand scrapes at the faint glimmer of the magic shrouding him. “I’ve been taught by a master.”

 

His lips quirk into a smile and he purposefully flicks the forehead of a pedestrian walking by, suppressing any kind of noise that threatens to escape him. The person looks around wildly, then blinks, going back to their walking but with alert, confused eyes. Their reactions always get a rise from Karma, but what’s the most satisfying is...not possible to him, yet. His fingers curl up into a determined fist, but even he’s not sure what he wants anymore.

 

_It’s been far too long, and things are blurring for him, even though his memory is as clear as what the mirror reflects in front of him._

 

But when he looks up, there’s a familiar fragrance in the air, mingling with the smell of slowly-roasting meat and savory herbs from a far-off cafeteria and the scent of ancient, yellowed pages.

 

Karma distantly remembers the brick-red building with the flowery arches, and how Nagisa pointed out to him that, _“for the umpteenth time, yes, this is the lecture hall that I’m going to, so if you have any problems, come here.”_ It’s not that he consciously came to the place, although being subconscious about it isn’t a good idea either. He’s not having any problems, and if the blue-haired human sees him there, he would automatically assume that something’s wrong. He’s that kind of person, the demon thinks, but shrugs it away.

 

There’s no harm in taking a peek, he figures.

 

The interior of the building is cool, compared to the warm atmosphere of the outside. It’s lit through electricity, even though magic could easily substitute; perhaps it’s to keep a sense of normalcy that magic isn’t the most powerful factor in the universe, that science still has a chance to rationalize the appearance of Demons and summoning darkness. Karma squints as he tries to find the room Nagisa is in, but the scent gives him a flashing neon sign to follow.

 

A door is open, and the demon thanks his mighty self for that stroke of luck. The inside of the lecture hall is domed and gigantic, nearly the size of his chamber room in Hell. Despite the number of novice Summoners, Karma can easily pick out his contractor; not many people have a shock of blue hair in the crowd.

 

As he walks up the steps quietly to sit beside Nagisa, the professor continues to drone on,

 

“Demons, once summoned, are obligated to protect their contractor. In rare cases, however, the demon will turn against their respective summoner. When this happens, there are consequences that stem from this violation of their agreement; the pain taken by the human will be mirrored on the demon, perhaps even twofold. Because of this, most demons choose not to harm their contractor…”

 

Karma tunes out.

 

 _Nagisa should know these things_ , he thinks as he hovers behind the blue-haired human. The young man is so concentrated on the lesson, his eyes are flickering between the scribbles on the notebook to the professor. It’s cute, the way he blinks so quickly when he looks elsewhere; the dark blue lashes flutter as if he’s flirting. _These things are basic, aren’t they?_

 

But the demon wouldn’t know. The placard on the professor’s desk read that the class was for novice Summoners, but the redhead raises an eyebrow. Novice Summoners wouldn’t have the access to chalk and chilled iron; his suspicion increases the more he watches the back of the blue-haired boy. Now, he’s not sure how much he knows about him, and how much he doesn’t. Nagisa is still a mystery to him, and he’s sure that he’ll always be one.

 

“There are six types of differentiable magic: fire, water, earth, air, light, and dark. These are the basic elements that make up the foundation of all complex spells in the world. Although fire and water are opposites, like earth and air, light and dark are not opposites,” the professor cuts into Karma’s thoughts with his suddenly louder voice. The demon frowns and he suddenly crouches, resting his arms on Nagisa’s shoulders.

 

The blue-haired male tenses up and he turns his head with frightened eyes, until Karma chooses to wear down his invisibility.

 

Nagisa’s expression immediately changes from surprised to deadpan and he turns back with a barely audible _‘hmph.’_

 

“Light and dark, in fact, complement each other on the magic spectrum. Light, although it erases darkness, also spawns darkness in the places it cannot reach. If anything, light is the one that produces darkness, and likewise, dark produces light. These two elements are the rarest to find in both demons and summoners alike,” the professor adjusts his glasses and his eyes seem to cut straight towards the duo in the side of his room, but Karma knows he can’t see him.

 

With a single look, he can deduce what affinity and power level the professor has, and it’s nothing rare, nor powerful.

 

For the rest of the duration of the class, Karma lazes and presses against his contractor, both annoying Nagisa and providing a surprisingly comfortable warmth, almost as if he were an overly affectionate cat. When the professor signals for class over, the human male taps his demon’s forehead with a mixed countenance, whispering to him, “C’mon, Karma, I have to meet up with my seniors.”

 

The demon rolls about, his cape fluttering as he groggily stands. Nagisa’s scent is strong in his nose and he feels almost intoxicated, dragging his feet when he could easily be floating. The invisibility about him nearly fluctuates, but he snaps himself awake before a human eye can see him. _After all, that would cause problems for his summoner._

 

Surprisingly, without a word of complaint, he follows the blue-haired boy out the lecture hall and back into the dazzlingly bright sunlight, where his hair absorbs the fiery golden sheen of the sun and his skin glitters like diamonds in the earth.

 

* * *

 

Nagisa gets strange looks from the Great Summoners in their common hall, but he’s simply waiting patiently, his eyes staring at everyone, but nothing at all. Once or twice, he looks into the sky because of a spiralling bird, possibly the falconers and their classes, but the next thing that’s reflected is simply the scene of bustling people in rich, navy blue robes.

 

His fingers curl a bit around the simple brown cloak he wears, and Karma’s eyebrows crease as he sees the momentary flash of disgust in those blue eyes.

 

But before he can comment, a feminine voice rings out, “Nagisa!”

 

From behind, the demon can only watch in repulsed amusement as his contractor’s face is buried in a set of surprisingly large breasts and consequently suffocated by them. In front of him, there are two summoners, both dressed in gold-embroidered, navy blue robes. There’s a golden-haired beauty with lips as red as his hair, and a stoic-looking man with black, spiky hair and eyes that could pierce stone.

 

“Irina, stop that before you kill him this time,” the deep voice of the man calls and he reinforces his scold with a hand that grabs the collar of robes, jerking her backwards.

 

She whines and lets the blue-haired boy go, laughing as he pants heavily for air. Karma instinctively moves behind him and hovers with a displeased look, staring at the woman named Irina.

 

“Thank you, Karasuma,” Nagisa breathes and grins at him. The demon feels a wave of displeasure, but he bites his tongue and stays silent.

 

“So, how did the summoning go? I’m confident it succeeded with our materials--”

 

The novice summoner laughs uncomfortably. “I might have to give you back that chalk and iron a bit later...The ifrit I ended up summoning created a pretty big explosion for some reason, even though I’m sure I did everything right…”

 

Karasuma raises both of his eyebrows and he and Irina exchange glances. Karma knows that both of them know that ifrits aren’t high-powered enough to explode chilled iron off the summoning mark, and he realizes that he probably has to be more careful. The air ifrit that wraps itself around the blonde woman’s shoulders seems to sense him, although it can’t see him, and he watches her sharp blue eyes flicker towards him.

 

 _It’s not like they can do anything about it_ , he inwardly smirks and chooses to loosen the cloak of invisibility around him. That way, they’ll definitely know that Nagisa isn’t only theirs, anymore. It almost makes him laugh, if they think he was only ever theirs. But he has to grit his teeth and stay silent when Irina hugs him again and Karasuma ruffles his hair.

 

“Don’t worry about returning the materials, we have enough money to buy tons more,” the blonde smiles and bids the novice summoner goodbye with frantic waving as Karasuma drags her away by the scruff. Nagisa lets out a soft laugh that has Karma ready to sprint a marathon on foot, but before he can say anything, the human turns to him with a startling smile and motions back towards the dorms.

 

“Sorry, Karma, let’s go home now,” and it’s a silly grin that he has on his face, but the demon can’t help but think that one day, it’ll be _him_ that causes that face, and not anyone else.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK MAN  
> I JUST THINK KARMA'S GREAT BEING HIMSELF  
> BY HIMSELF, I MEAN GAY  
> KARMA A BIG GAY WARM CAT  
> N I C E


	4. of nostalgia and warm cloaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yOOO THIS IS SO LATE  
> but i was like ART-ing and SCHOOL-ing and stuff was just hectic  
> so ey have some half-assed gay shit hope u like it lmao //kill me//

**His dreams, if they even are dreams, are plagued by fire.**

**Much of it is brimstone and smoke, so dark he can barely see the hand in front of his face. He has command over fire, he’s a demon for Hell’s sake, but he can’t control this fire. It flickers and flickers, neverending, flashing red, yellow, orange in his eyes.**

**The taste in his mouth isn’t smoke or ash, but it’s bitter and it tastes like his own tears--**

 

Karma hates to fall asleep, because these are the results of his rest. It’s not a nightmare, because he doesn’t wake up in a sweat and panting, but he can hardly call it a dream. His tail flickers to life as he sits up from the makeshift bed and rubs his eyes, clearing them of its sleepy fog.

 

The heavy stench of human food slams into his nose and he recognizes it. It’s been a long time since he smelled it, but he’s sure it’s something called _waffles_. The word conjures up memories lost and buried under years of waiting, but he doesn’t have the time nor the patience to sit back and let nostalgia wash over him. His tail almost wags, _but it’s simply waving in the air, as calm as calm can be_ , as he carefully picks his way to the door leading to the balcony.

 

There, Nagisa stands, his hair a jagged scar, body a dark outline against the early morning sky. Steam quivers its thin, transparent self in small tendrils, and with the backdrop of a bright, almost blinding blue, it’s a scene that seems perfect for a picture.

 

But Karma missteps and the floorboard creaks. The blue-haired male boy whirls around with wide-eyes and an open mouth, but it curves into a smile when he recognizes the demon.

 

“Good morning, Karma,” Nagisa remarks goodnaturedly, turning back around to the portable stove. There’s a sizzling and a clattering, but the redhead can see nothing of it since the human blocks his view.

 

“I don’t have to eat, just so you know,” Karma calls out and the blue-haired boy turns around with a deadpan stare.

 

“I know that,” he replies and turns off the waffle maker with a loud click. “But you should sit here with me,” and the demon blinks once, twice, before standing up almost uncertainly and following the back of his contractor with a curious expression.

 

Nagisa sets his plate down and Karma sits across of him, casually leaning back and his eyes trained on the person in front of him with inquisitive intensity. The golden-brown waffle is artfully surrounded by a swath of strawberries; the boy looks quite proud of his handiwork as he settles down with a fork and knife. The toppings are different from what he remembered, though.

 

Just before the fork pierces the fluffy insides of the waffle, the demon, with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, swipes a strawberry piece and tosses it into his mouth. Triumphantly, he stares a challenge at the human, but Nagisa only rolls his eyes and sighs. The taste of the berry is sweet and it spreads over his tongue like a cloud; although it’s not as good as the food in his realm, Karma concludes that perhaps it’s the fact that so many memories are behind such things that makes it so good.

 

He almost doesn’t stop his lips from curving into a fond smile.

 

Nagisa, on the other hand, cheerfully dines away obliviously, so concentrated on making the perfect cuts for the best taste ratio in his mouth.

 

“So, Karma, what magic affinity are you?” He asks, a bulging waffle piece in one cheek, hair fluffing in the crisp, morning breeze.

 

The demon reaches over and takes another strawberry. He lets it rest in his mouth, the seeds textured against his sensitive tongue, before chewing thoughtfully, even though he thinks of nothing.

 

“Fire and void. Wasn’t it obvious?” Karma replies and his eyes flicker to his red-and-black outfit.

 

“Well, I didn’t want to judge,” Nagisa tosses back, and with a final clatter, his plate is clear save for droplets of pink juice that tilts from side to side until disappearing with the final wave under the magic-using washer. “We’re testing for our magic affinities today.”

 

“Oh?”

 

The demon swivels his head to look at the blue-haired boy. Even from the distance, he can see the tension building up like a coil in his back. Hopping off the seat, the telltale tapping of boots on the ground near the human, but Nagisa doesn’t glance his way.

 

“People are talking about me, not even behind my back.” His voice is quiet and trembling, an autumn leaf clinging to the branch with the wind on high.

 

Karma is silent, his face unreadable as he grabs onto the blue-haired boy’s shoulder and spins him around so that he’s facing him. Surprised blue eyes don’t even have the time to widen fully before a hand clamps down, firm and warm, on the back of his head, fingers soft against his scalp, and his face is buried in the softness of his rich, dark red cloak. The scent of waffles clings to the cloth, but it smells more of aged sunshine, dark halls brimming with books, and sour memories locked away; he can’t even summon his own voice, it’s drowned away but it’s better than hearing the fear.

 

“You don’t have to be scared,” the demon murmurs and he closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he were in pain. “Nothing to be scared about because you don’t have to do anything today.”

 

“The strength they’re looking for is already inside of you,” Karma whispers, then squeezes him one last time before releasing him. The human stumbles backwards with a dazed expression and before he can open his mouth to speak, his contractee walks away from him, the cloak that smells of memories swishing behind him.

 

Nagisa can’t believe for a moment that a demon was the one who comforted him, and what he can barely fathom is the fact that he’s feeling so much calmer, that his heart isn’t pounding and his voice, when he whispers, “thanks,” is not shaking anymore.

 

* * *

 

When Nagisa leaves, Karma’s face is still red.

 

His hands are still warm from where they clutched the soft blue strands done up in the pigtails he’s always wanted to touch. But he has to follow his summoner, and he thinks with an internal scoff that it’s to make sure the boy doesn’t kill himself with a panic attack, but he knows what he wants and what he’s really thinking of and it’s not that.

 

He snaps his invisibility on and leaves the dorm room with a jaunty step and his chest tingling with soft fairy wings, like the feeling of Nagisa’s weight on his body.

 

* * *

 

As he’s waiting outside the test building, he spies a marid that floats about, its craning eyes searching for something. The creature crawls on the ground at a breakneck speed, but it’s easy for Karma to discern and he figures it’s looking for him, seeing as it perks up once it has caught his scent.

 

His invisibility, unfortunately, doesn’t extend to any summons higher than marids.

 

“Grand King,” the marid hisses and its ears flicker back and forth. The scales on its body shimmer and half camouflage, as if it’s trying to intimidate him, but the demon flicks his cloak back and stares down with a clearly unamused expression. His sharp tail irritatedly poises in a way that if it weren’t connected to his body, he could’ve used it as a weapon. “My master knows you’re here…”

 

Karma doesn’t answer, but his gray eyes sharpen.

 

“It’s easy to tell him who you are. Master is close to him, after all,” and the red-headed demon knows exactly where this is going and he laughs at the thought of a marid, a class so much lower than his, attempting to intimidate him.

 

With a swift hand, he catches the marid at the throat and his nails are long and they barely tickle at the iridescent scales that cover the creature’s body. Fire trickles around his hand and the victim in his grip struggles, eyes widening, but Karma spits, “It’s useless. You dare tell him and you won’t live to see the sky rain or the sun shine. In fact, I think I know plenty of ways you can suffer for eternity by challenging me…”

 

But with a click of his tongue, the demon releases the struggling creature. The indentations of Karma’s hand around the marid’s throat reform itself and it stares at him with fear-filled eyes, before defaulting to its normal expression.

 

“We’ll see,” it hisses and then fades into the air. The presence of the marid is gone, and the demon can breathe easier.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want Nagisa to find out that he’s not just an ifrit. It’s not that he’s afraid of that happening. He has his own reasons to his own secrets, and that should be that.

  
_And so, he waits, like he’s always done, for the glimpse of Nagisa’s smiling face and the chance to make it all up again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nagisa is a boy and nagisa is gay  
> karmas probably a boy and hes like hella gay  
> like, hella gay  
> but like, not yet, youll see

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i know the first chapter is tiny and shkelkwgh  
> but the chapters will be longer later! i promise  
> i dont think this will be as long as my last 20-chapter karmagisa :^)


End file.
